


Wedding Date

by SupremeMotherHen



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupremeMotherHen/pseuds/SupremeMotherHen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan didn't want to go to the wedding alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Date

**Author's Note:**

> That picture of them at the Emmy's, in 2014, is responsible for this.

“I will get you back for this.” 

“Shut up, and smile pretty for the camera.”

“When I said 'anything' I did not mean your friends' wedding.”

“Now you know to be more specific.”

“You're a devious one, Watson. Happy to see that I'm rubbing off.”

“I've been a devious one since before you were born and stop calling me Watson.” Joan whisper yelled back, hoping everyone was too preoccupied with the festivities to hear their conversation. “It's weird around people other than Sherlock.”

Click. 

The picture was taken and the irritating photographer pushed through the crowd to find his next victim. Jamie and Joan were left with stars in their eyes and flutes of too sweet champagne. Joan usually hated weddings but watching Jamie suffer alongside her made it bearable. It was a sadistic pleasure but her companion was hardly an angel.

“Let's dance.”

“Dear Watson, I do not dance.” Jamie fought with the hands pulling her towards the dance floor.

“But I love this song.” Joan pouted in a way that no woman her age should have been able to do, but it worked. It always did.

Jamie shuffled along to the melody of the song, peaking around to make sure no one was paying close enough attention to her. She really loathed the idea of being bad at something. She couldn't leave without making a scene or disappointing Joan, so she did her best impression of someone with rhythm. 

Her fencing coach had lied to her. Sword dancing and actual dancing were far from comparable. If she hadn’t killed him already, for giving away her training secrets, she’d maim him for the embarrassment she was feeling. 

Joan bounced around, seemingly oblivious to her partner's discomfort. She spun them around the floor and danced like Jamie wasn't a confirmed murderer that had escaped from jail... again.

Neither of the women could pinpoint the exact moment they genuinely began to have a good time but by the time the night drew to a close, they were all smiles and slick skin from their hour on the dance floor.

“We should do this again.” Joan was only half joking.

“I'd sooner go back to prison.” Jamie kicked off her heels and began the trek across the lawn to where her driver was parked.

Joan could have called her out on the smile that had yet to leave Jamie's face since “The Hustle” or the alarming amount of jalapeno poppers they had both consumed. For now she was content to stroll back to the car, heels in hand, and leaning far too close to someone she claimed to hate. 


End file.
